AMANDA ROGERS - WILD

It's one of those stories lived constantly and proudly on the margins, that of Amanda Rogers, the American singer-songwriter and pianist with a long and ever-shifting career, launched at a very young age. One of those stories that's hard to trace amid the daily deluge of information that overwhelms us, but that you don't hesitate to make your own, like the tale of an old friend you haven't seen in ages, whose connection with you can still prove strong once rekindled the right way. And it's with that same spirit, an intimism that aspires to open up and embrace a broader universality of intent, that the Syracuse songstress, now on her eighth album, delivers the most ambitious fruit of her art yet, laconically titled "WILD" (yes, all caps).

Because, even though it's true that American artists can draw on an incredible knowledge of American popular music, from folk all the way to jazz and Tin Pan Alley, and have a formidable ear for easy melody and a catchy hook, tackling a double album is never an easy undertaking, with all the risks that such a decision can entail. Given the rather small slice of truly successful double albums, ones that keep redundancy and obviousness in check across a tracklist that's solid from start to finish, approaching a listen to a work like this with a certain wariness is more than understandable, since disappointment is literally lurking around the corner. Luckily for us, things don't turn out that way.

As a talented craftswoman of song, a composer attentive to the mechanisms of pop communication, Rogers wards off the danger of too much filler by deploying every tool at her disposal and carefully planning the tracklist itself. Sure, there are overall some more low-key episodes, but on the whole the two records go down easily, wringing out more than a few moments of genuine appreciation: skillfully dosing out rhythms and pauses, the world-weary surrender of a seasoned balladeer and colorful little retro-flavored tunes, with an interpretive calm that only rarely tips into sappiness ("And The Birds Will Sing," "Sad Song"), the singer-songwriter mentally retraces decades of American music, in a reinterpretation that expresses a delicacy far removed from fatal kitsch, as much as it does a passionate summary of years and years of musical devotion.

Passions she puts to best use when she finds the main road toward the great song: the jazzy midtempo of "Genes I'm Always Wearing," with its chorus laid out entirely in minor key, becomes almost the emblem of a maturity that gets straight to the point, when she's given full creative freedom. And the other most compelling tracks on the record follow suit in turn: the country-pop of "This American Dream" manages to combine political subtext with narrative calm, without ever slipping into the embarrassing obviousness of so many similar operations, while the playful electric honky-tonk of "Welcome To The Show," paired with the southern-pop of "10¢ Songbird," explores a relationship with the past free of easy nostalgia, made sophisticated by a full-bodied arrangement that catapults the song straight into the present.

Then again, yes, there are a few missteps: the umpteenth cover of "Creep" by Radiohead, for instance, placed at the close of the entire record and stripped of all the angst that defines the original, could easily have been cut, and the tracklist would no doubt have benefited from some trimming, but even so, it's really hard to find fault with the overall success of the work, which if anything shows a vitality that similar exercises can barely conceive of. With such a vast body of work behind her, Amanda Rogers really doesn't have all that much left to prove: and so we leave her here, a free and wild spirit, waiting for her next move.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

18/05/2014